My experiment on the infamous dating app Hinge has officially come to an end, and the results are probably not what you anticipated they would be.
Back in December an old coworker signed me up for Hinge so that I could partake in the journey of a buddy shooting his shot at women on the app. She ran the profile for a short time, and it was just as weird as I thought it would be. I’m sure you all thought old cowboy casanova Dave would be tearing it up. Let’s get into all of that.
Let me be clear. I don’t care if people use dating apps. My CIA-esque level of personal protection and security had kept me pretty much off these things. Again, not against people who use them. It’s just hard to be Jason Bourne/James Bond and bumping along on Hinge.
So, my coworker took control of the account for a brief time. It did not go well, and I think it’s safe to say I was not putting my best foot forward. I’m also still not convinced there wasn’t a little sabotage going on.
The dumb questions people ask on these things are absurd. First off, why would I ever tell somebody via an app what my family does? Why not just tell you where my house is located and what hours it’s unlocked at. Would you also like my banking information and the combination and locations of my gun safes? No thanks. As a hot young woman once told me at a bar when I propositioned her, “Hard pass.”
I never met up with a single woman from this experiment. We came close. I’m talking Cuban missile crisis close. We were on the brink, but at the end of the day I couldn’t pull the trigger. There are just too many variables, and I’m not walking into any situation that might just as likely end in a kidnapping or murder as it would in casual drinks. Again, my security instincts have taught me better.
Now, my friend on the other hand who came on this journey at the same time had much better luck. I don’t really know why and it doesn’t matter. I was asked to do the experiment, and I did because I’m all about the content for the readers. You think I like getting swamped by messages about how having AR-15s in my profile is “weird” or that it’s not cool to chug Miller Lite for football? No, I don’t, but I also didn’t do this for me. I did it for you, the readers.
Good for you if dating apps are your thing. I’ll stick to women who can be fully vetted and frisked for weapons before stepping into any room with me. Does that make me paranoid or overly cautious? I don’t know. Is James Bond overly cautious when he brings is Walther PPK with him to wine and dine an attractive female? I guess you have your answer.